Draught of Living Death
by HippoParty
Summary: Harry walked into the forest and Voldemort reclaimed his seventh Horcrux. Now, five hundred years have passed and after centuries of slumber, Harry is about to wake up. One shot.
Harry's eyes snapped open. Pupils dilating, as his gaze adjusted to the semi darkness. Towering columns shifted into focus as water pooled at the bottom of limescale covered walls.

Harry's memories were faint and distant as he tried to gain his bearings. His arms were held apart, shackles locked tightly in place, causing Harry to hang loosely against the cold stone.

It happened instantly. The chains shattered. Harry fell to the floor, crying out as his right leg cracked against the floor.

Shaking his head, Harry stared up at the large pedestal where he had been restrained. His scar was burning something fierce, and it took a moment to decipher his location.

The Chamber of Secrets.

The pedestal was high off the ground, sitting before the huge statue where he had killed the Basilisk years ago. It was a slanted table, with rusted chains hanging from its corners.

Instinctively, Harry grabbed his wrists, but there was no mark or pain. In fact, Harry stared amazed. Aside from his now throbbing leg, his previous wounds were painless. Harry ran his fingers over his arms, no scars, or blood in sight. Even his ripped clothes were replaced in clean cut robes.

Harry's head fell into his hands, thoughts strained as he tried to remember, but everything was slow and disjointed.

Fiendfyre. Screams. The battle. And then nothing.

One thing was certain. Harry was missing precious time. His memories were broken, and he had no recollection of how he had come to be chained deep in the Chamber. The layers of dirt and dust did nothing to settle his growing anxieties.

Yet somehow, he was still alive and Voldemort would not have spared Harry under any circumstance.

The effort it took to move, to stand and place one leg in front of the other was immense. Harry needed to find Ron and Hermione and fast.

XXXXXXXXXX

Harry's journey through the chamber was slow, his clearly broken leg hampered his every step as small bones turned to dust beneath his feet.

Every horrible thought imaginable rushed through Harry's head. He had no recollection of why he was chained in the chamber. Voldemort had wanted to kill him, but he could be the only culprit, the only one who had access and would imprison Harry deep under Hogwarts.

The battle as well was in Harry's mind, and no matter how much he strained his thoughts, he could place nothing of how the events had played out.

It truly felt like an age before Harry came across the large pipes that led back up into Hogwarts.

His next problem was ascending the steep pipe. However, Harry was surprised to see deep stone steps carved into the side.

Voldemort would not need the steps, his wand would have been suitable. Nevertheless, Harry proceeded to drag himself up the carved stairs. Hating how his fear grew with every step. Finally, the Chamber opened up and it took a moment for Harry's eyes to adjust to the bright lights. Aside from his dusty footprints, he was unnerved at how immaculate everything looked.

"Myrtle," Harry tested quietly.

He received no reply.

Harry crossed to a sink and although Harry's arms had been clean, it was still surprising to see his face unhurt, there wasn't even ash from the fiendfyre.

Harry pressed on feverishly now, hating how nothing seemed to piece together. He itched for his wand. Even his invisibility cloak would have been welcome, but that too was missing.

Daylight shone through the large glass windows and the corridors were clean, with no sight of the raging battle or sound of curses and explosions.

One thing however, was very clear. If the fight had been lost, Harry needed to find the Order and fast.

Harry's quickest escape would be through the entrance hall. The secret passageways had all been blocked up and Harry didn't want to chance dragging himself all the way up to the seventh floor if the room of requirements was still a smouldering mess.

If he was quick, and no one was watching, Harry might get lucky.

He didn't get very far. Not two seconds after he'd taken a dozen more steps was he interrupted.

"I did not think I would see the day."

Harry jumped, head spinning. His broken leg nearly collapsed and he stumbled into the wall.

"N...Nick?" Harry said.

Nearly Headless Nick was gliding towards him, arms outstretched. He was positively beaming.

"Of course, there were rumours, but I myself did not believe it."

He came to a stop in front of Harry, and dipped his head low. It wobbled slightly.

Harry sucked in a breath, throat dry.

"What happened? The battle?"

Nick's smile slipped as he surveyed Harry carefully, taking in his dusty clothes.

"I dare not say-"

"Nick, please," Harry pressed. The longer he lingered in the open, the more dangerous it would become. Nick too seemed anxious, he glanced over his shoulder.

"Perhaps we should move elsewhere?"

It didn't take long to find and take refuge in an empty classroom. Although, Harry knew it was useless, he dragged a chair in front of the door. Nick watched his every movement, as Harry shifted into a more comfortable position.

"You are right to be cautious," Nick said.

This was what Harry feared.

"We lost then?"

Nick bowed his head low.

"The Dark Lord took back the castle."

"But Ron, Hermione, they're okay? Right?" Harry said.

Nick did not look up, instead he turned, floating away from Harry.

"Nick!"

Harry couldn't find the strength to close the distance. His leg protested as he threw his weight forwards. Nick came to a halt just before the wall.

"Hogwarts saw a lot of blood shed that day. Many of your friends did not last the night."

It was if the ground had swallowed him up. Harry went numb, he couldn't move, as his heart thumped painfully in his chest. It couldn't be true.

He didn't want to ask again, but Nick clearly wasn't offering up anymore than he had to.

"Ron and Hermione?" Harry repeated, voice barely audible. His hands were shaking, throat running dry.

"They survived the night, if that offers you any comfort," Nick said.

"I-" Harry couldn't breathe. If anything, Nick's answer only raised a dozen more questions.

"H...how long was I out?"

The silence was painful, surely it couldn't be more then a few days at most, if Ron and Hermione had fled, maybe he still had time to catch up with them. If Voldemort wasn't in the castle, then Harry could easily slip away. Ron and Hermione must have escaped, Harry couldn't bear to think otherwise.

Nick looked uncertain, eyes still scanning over Harry with a mixture of relief and horror.

"How long?" Harry repeated.

Eventually, Nick relented with a heavy sigh.

"500 years."

Harry blinked. That was not what he had expected.

"I-" he started, before he stopped. Head trying to get around what Nick had just said.

Nick's face was deadly serious. Surely that wasn't right, Harry must have misheard. 500 years just couldn't have happened. It was impossible.

Nick only smiled sadly.

"The world has long since changed past what you knew," he said. "Muggles have long since been enslaved. Muggleborns too are experimented on, their magic suppressed or stolen for those purebloods faithful enough to be gifted more."

Nick's voice washed over Harry. The shock was there, but nothing felt real. Even the pain in his leg had dissipated.

This was some sick joke. 500 years couldn't just evaporate in less then a heart beat. Hogwarts had barely changed, despite the absence of the battle. To regain his composure was impossible, but already Harry's thoughts were running away from him. If Nagini was alive, then Voldemort was still immortal. But there was no way Harry could be standing here as flesh and blood.

"What happened to my friends?" Harry's own voice sounded foreign. It was like he was out of his own body, unable to comprehend the situation.

Nick dipped his head slightly. "I don't have the heart to tell you, the Dark Lord rules with an iron fist, I'm sure you don't want the details."

Harry wanted to know, but it was hard to ask again.

"Of course, no one knew what had happened to you. The Order looked, but after you went into the forest, the battle was lost," Nick answered.

"I went to Voldemort?" Harry whispered, raking his head. "Why?"

"You don't remember?"

Harry shook his head, hoping that he would wake up soon.

"The Order always hoped you were still alive, but they knew the chance of finding you were slim-"

"Where is he?" Harry interrupted, fists clenching.

Nick raised his eyebrows, but didn't comment. The stinging in Harry's forehead was more than confirmation.

"Where is Voldemort?" Harry repeated, grief fuelling his anger.

Nick paused, eyebrows furrowing. "I would not repeat that name if I were you."

But Harry didn't care, he wasn't listening. He would finish this and he would make Voldemort pay.

Footsteps were approaching them hurriedly now, but it didn't matter, nothing did. Everyone was dead, and the sooner Harry could and make Voldemort suffer the better.

Nick was watching him wearily now, as if reading his mind. "I wouldn't do anything reckless, Harry."

Harry couldn't help but laugh horsely. His options were limited. No one else was left. Only him and Voldemort.  
It made things so simple.

The door smashed open, the chair giving no resistance as three wizards entered. Wands simultaneously locked straight onto Harry.

Harry staggered, barely managing to keep his balance as he clocked the death eaters.

"I am sorry, Harry. There is little I can do," Nick said solemnly. "It is not a time where you will find many friends."

Harry didn't move in time, as one single curse hit him, sinking him into oblivion.

XXXXXXXXXX

Harry sat crossed legged, head in his hands as he tried to straighten his thoughts. It was worse now the pain in his leg was gone, before it had been something to ground him, distract him from what was really happened. Now, the cold hard reality was sinking in. Ron and Hermione couldn't be gone, they just couldn't.

He sat on a hospital wing bed. Two chains enclosed his ankles and two more his wrists. They were thick iron and chained directly to the floor.

At the other end of the room, a group of wizards, who were clearly Death Eaters were talking in hushed voices.

"What are we supposed to do with him?" one muttered. "He's just some boy?"

"It is the Dark Lords command to keep him under strict guard. Apparently, he is too valuable to remove from the castle," another added.

Harry tried his best to ignore them but it was difficult. He wanted to scream, to curse the Death Eaters who were muttering ignorantly in the corner.

They were all dead. All of them. Never would Harry see anyone he cared about again. Nothing could ever bring them back. Harry tried to blink back his tears, but they slipped silently down his face.

"We never stopped looking for you," a voice whispered.

Harry jerked up, chains rattling. Considering 500 years have passed, to hear another familiar voice was a mixture of shock and relief.

Sure enough Professor McGonagall was smiling down at him.

Harry glanced hurriedly back towards the Death Eaters but none of them had moved. They were to caught up in their own conversation.

"Professor?" Harry whispered.

She stepped forwards, filling up the portrait which had previously held a couple sitting underneath a blossom tree.

"Are you unharmed?" she asked, eyes scanning over him.

Harry nodded. If anything, to see Professor McGonagall in a portrait only made things hurt more. McGonagall had been alive and fighting only moments ago. Her next statement was quiet, and Harry had to lean closer.

"Can you run?"

"I-" Harry glanced towards the Death Eaters. "Yes."

"Sir Nicolas said your leg was injured?" McGonagall pressed.

"It's fine," Harry said. When he had woken up his leg had been tended to. Even his throat didn't feel as raspy and dry. If the Death Eaters only had instructions to guard him, it was odd that someone had gone to the effort to heal him.

"You must leave the castle, Harry. You will not get another opportunity."

Harry could feel it. His scar was burning intensely now. Voldemort was aware.

"But the Death Eaters?"

"I have taken care of it," McGonagall said.

"Prof-"

Harry jumped as his shackles split opened, clanging to the floor with a loud clatter. Harry turned quickly, staring at the Death Eaters continued in their conversation. But not one of them had reacted.

"What did you do?"

"They're drugged," McGonagall explained. "But your window is limited, they won't remain like that for long. You need to go now!"

Harry slipped off the bed, testing his weight on his leg. Sure enough the pain was gone. There was an outdoor cloak hanging by the door. He moved forwards and grabbed it, swinging it around his shoulders as he raised the hood. It was unnerving that the Death Eaters still stood upright, mumbled words slipping between them. Harry walked up to one and waved his hand in front of him. Unfocused eyes, shifted slightly, but the Death Eater didn't react.

"Run where?" Harry asked.

"Head to London and keep your head down." McGonagall said. "No matter who you meet, friend or foe, under no circumstance must you give your name."

"My name?" Harry blinked.

McGonagall disappeared from her portrait, reappearing again in another closer to the door. Harry had never known her to look so scared.

"Promise me, Harry. Keep your scar hidden and trust no one."

Harry nodded, trying to ignore the pulsing in his forehead.

"But I don't understand," Harry couldn't leave yet, he needed answers. "Why didn't Voldemort kill me?"

"There is no time, you need to run-"

"Professor, please!"

McGonagall looked agitated, glancing over Harry's shoulder and out of the door.

"You knew once, but that memory was taken from you. There are answers, but I cannot provide them here. Get to London and hide, I will find you again."

Harry wanted to ask more, but he could hear sounds in the distance. Heavy footfall echoing down the empty corridors. It wasn't Voldemort, but someone was heading this way. Soon they would discover the Hospital Wing and the drugged Death Eaters within.

"Head to the old Headmaster's office, it is the only fireplace still connected to the floo," McGonagall said. "The password is Dragon Hide. Go now. I will cover for you."

Harry nodded, hand on the door.

"Prof-"

"Go, Harry!"

With one final look at the distraught McGonagall, he tore out the hospital wing and into the corridor.

Now that Harry's leg was no longer injured, he could make good time. The sun was hanging lower in the sky, casting long shadows as Harry hurtled towards the headmaster's office. Despite being evening, the castle was alive. The portraits were full of buzz and chatter, with numerous people raising there glasses. Several even cheered, or tipped their hats in Harry's direction as he ran.

There were no students around the corridor, or any ghosts. Harry had hoped to run into Nearly Headless Nick again but he saw no one.

It was odd how nothing had really changed. After 500 years, Harry would have expected Hogwarts to be different in some respect. After all, the staircases changed every day of the week, but something was in Harry's favour tonight.

"Dragon Hide," Harry gasped as he came to a stop.

The gargoyle actually bowed its head as it jumped aside. Harry proceeded to take the steps two at a time.

Thick layers of dust covered the floor and it caused Harry to come to an abrupt stop. It looked like the office had been untouched for centuries. The portraits were empty and there wasn't a single item out of place. Dumbledore's old pensieve sat on the desk, a single empty vial lying next to it.

Harry stepped hesitantly forward, coming to a stop just before the desk. That too was covered in dust, thick and undisturbed.

A letter opener sat on the desk. It was small, and the blade was blunt, but it was better than nothing. Harry knelt down and stuffed it into his sock.

He then turned to the pensieve, curious why it hadn't been moved in all these years. Memories swirled around within and Harry couldn't help but shake the odd feeling of deja vu. Even the empty portraits stirred some form of recollection in Harry's head, but he couldn't place his memories.

If the circumstances hadn't been so high, and time not a problem, Harry would have investigated further. But the pain in Harry's forehead was building, and he didn't want to linger. Although it had been compromised, Harry could think of no where else to go. He made sure his hood was secure, covering his head as he took a small handful of floo powder. Harry stepped into the fireplace.

"Grimmauld place," Harry stated clearly.

The flames erupted black, wrapping around Harry's arms tightly. They weren't hot, but they certainly didn't whisk him away into the fireplace. Instead they gripped harder, twisting and dragging him down into the ashes.

Harry struggled, crying out as the flames cut sharply into his arms. His breathing shortened, dust and ashes swirling around him as he was held secure in the fireplace.

"Diagon Alley," Harry cried frantically.

He hadn't expected it to work. The black flames relented, snapping away from his body as he hurtled away. Dozen of fireplaces whizzed past Harry's view before he came to an abrupt landing.

Harry stumbled, hood slipping, as he fell out of the fireplace. Dozens of eyes slid across to him. Harry sucked in a cold breath. He hadn't anticipated how much the leaky cauldron would have changed. There were no tables or chairs, or bar and warm atmosphere. Instead, up ahead, dozens of witches and wizards mingled around. Death Eaters too were present, wands out as they filtered people through a checkpoint into Diagon Alley.

Harry did not dare raise his hood again, hoping that the hostile eyes would lose interest in him. Keeping his eyes firmly locked on the floor, he moved over to the muggle entrance. Even if he had a wand, he wouldn't get into Diagon Alley.

Harry opened the door, and the immediate impending doom of dementor's tore through him. Harry could hear the screaming. His vision blackening and he nearly collapsed then and there. It took all of his effort to shut the door. Harry closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall, screams still echoing in his head.

"Is there a problem?"

Harry's eyes snapped open, cold sweat covering his brow. A young blonde death eater was scanning him curiously, eyes sweeping over his fine cloak. Harry shook his head, gaze diverting downwards.

"No, sir. I'm sorry," he said. "I'll just be going."

"What's your house?" The Death Eater pressed, as he said this he made a subtle gesture with his hand. Two other death eaters who had been hanging back stepped forwards. One pulled a thin piece of parchment from his robes and unravelled it.

"Slytherin?" Harry tested. At their thunderous looks, that clearly wasn't the right answer.

"Are you being funny with me, boy?"

Harry didn't answer. He eyed up the exit, unsure if the dementors would be worth the risk. Unfortunately, they seemed to notice. The blonde Death Eater grabbed Harry's shoulder and pushed him hard up against the wall.

"Do you know who I am, boy?"

Harry hook his head, hating how the Death Eaters grin widened.

"Colerick, Walter Colerick."

Apparently this was meant to mean something, and at Harry's blank expression his grin faltered.

"Hold out your hand," Colerick instructed.

Harry didn't move. The three Death Eaters blocked his exit completely and from the burning in his forehead, he was fast running out of options.

"Would you rather be in a cell?" Colerick said, as he drew out his wand.

Harry relented. If he complied, they might let him go. The Death Eater swiped his wand directly over Harry's hand and then pointed it towards the parchment.

Harry could see others shooting glances in his direction. Eyes glancing downwards whenever they thought a Death Eater was looking.

"I thought so," Colerick said quietly, a horrible smirk now flicking onto his face. "No house, no ID, looks like we bagged us some lost kid from the Order."

Now that certainly caught Harry's attention. His head snapped up, heart racing. Colerick looked positively delighted, even his silent companions looked excited.

Colerick placed a tight grip on Harry's shoulder, but before Harry had a chance to make a run for it, his scar erupted in intense pain.  
Colerick let go abruptly.

"Hey kid, I didn't do anything!"

But Harry wasn't listening, he staggered, fists pressed into his forehead tightly as he felt something warm and wet slip between his fingers. Voldemort was furious. Images of an empty hospital wing and unconscious Death Eaters flicked into his head. It was difficult to remain in his own mind.

"Take him in," Colerick instructed.

Harry had no room to protest, as a wand twisted around his wrists, binding his hands together. Another Death Eater ruffled through Harry's pockets, he probably expected to find a wand. When he came up empty, he held Harry's shoulder as they apparated away.

XXXXXXXXXX

The Ministry too had changed. No statues, or fountains enclosed the auditorium. Instead large expanses of empty stone floor spread before them. Witches and wizards moved around conducting their own business. No one even spared Harry a second glance as he was led bound throughout the Auditorium.

Colerick and his companions didn't break pace, taking Harry down a dozen corridors and up several floors before they arrived at their destination. A single sign informed Harry where he was.

Inquisitor Department.

Just like Diagon Alley, witches and wizards lined the walls of a large room. Some had shackles enclosed around their wrists, others were unbound, sitting silently with heads down.

The old wizard at the desk looked up, eyes scanning over Harry briefly.

"What have I told you about picking up runaways, Colerick."

Colerick stepped around Harry, stupid grin breaking out on his face.

"His cloak may be fine quality, Dutheron, but he's got no identity."

It was like a ripple effect. Heads snapped in Harry's direction.

Dutheron too leaned across the desk, peering at Harry more closely now.

"You sure?"

"Positive. There's not even a trace. His hand is clean."

As if to make his point, he yanked Harry forwards, pulling down his sleeve so that his palm was presented. Harry tried to pull back, but Colerick held him firm.

Dutheron pulled out his own wand, running it down Harry's palm. The tip of his wand paused ever so slightly on the scar Wormtail had given him. Harry didn't know what they were looking for, but Dutheron too suddenly pulled back.

"I'll get the Inquisitors,"

Colerick shook his head. "I can handle this one, after all it is my speciality."

Now Dutheron looked apprehensive. "Well keep him in one piece. If he's got information on the Order, chances are we'll need to take this higher."

Colerick crossed his arms. "I'm high enough."

Now Dutheron laughed coldly. "You're a disgrace, nothing will get you back in favour-"

But Dutheron never got to finish. His voice was drowned out as suddenly a howling siren pierced the room and plunged everything into a horrible red light. The occupants lining the walls drew back terrified.

"Ugh, not now." Colerick said, he looked annoyed.

A hand grabbed him and spun him round. Pinning Harry against the wall.

"It's your lucky day kid, we'll catch up with you later."

A half dozen hollowed eyes watched him as Colerick waved his wand. There was only a few people bound to the wall, but now Harry was one of them. Strong shackles wrapped around his wrists tying him in place.

All of the Death Eaters left and Harry didn't hear a click of the lock sliding into place. At once, Harry set about pulling at his chains, yanking his wrists desperately. Now, he had the full attention of everyone surrounding him.

The closest witch too him frowned. Unlike Harry, she wasn't restrained.

"Do you live under a rock or something?" she hissed. "You're going to get us all killed!"

But Harry wasn't listening, as he twisted his hands. Precious time was slipping away. The Death Eaters would no doubt return soon. It was no use, he was secured in tight. The chains wouldn't budge.

"Does anyone have a wand?" Harry asked desperately.

His question was met with blank stares, some people didn't even look up. An old man in the back even laughed harshly under his breath. The witch looked horrified.

"Escaping a lockdown is impossible. No matter whoever you are supposedly with," she said.

"I'm not with anyone-"

She didn't listen as she continued. "Anit-apparation wards, no floo, you name it. No one escapes-" her voice faltered.

"Look, I'm not just going to wait here until Voldemort-"

Harry had never seen a room full of people flinch so much in his life. The old witch grabbed her chest, eyes bulging. Everyone now seemed to want nothing to do with him. The witch turned away from Harry, and started muttering about reckless youths.

"You're lucky we're in lockdown, boy," the man in the corner grumbled. "Nobody says the Dark Lords name and lives."

The man was roughly dressed. His outdoor clock had numerous rips in it and his face was sporting one huge scar which ran down his right check. He too wasn't restrained.

"Well I'm not dead yet," Harry snapped. He yanked again against his chains.

"Considering your circumstance, I wouldn't say your odds are great."

Harry ignored him, panic setting in now, he was running out of time. The wizard however, only looked amused. He leaned back, grin breaking out as he crossed his arms.

"So, the Dark Lord is coming for you, why is that?"

"Does it matter?" Harry snapped, yanking his chains tighter. His scar was unrelenting.

The man tilted his head. "Yes."

"Look, can you help me or not?" Harry said.

Even this sentence made everyone flinch.

"That depends, what's your name?"

Harry hesitated. McGonagall's words echoed in his head. Perhaps his name had died out hundreds of years ago. Or maybe Voldemort had sung his victory over him. It wouldn't matter anyway, they probably wouldn't believe him.

"I'm not going to help you unless I get a name."

Instead of answering, Harry looked around. Again, only slight glances darted in his direction. Now, the witches and wizards closest to the old man had drawn away from him.

"You're with the Order?" Harry tested.

The man smiled coldly. "I'm not admitting to anything, boy. Although, I am curious. The Order usually implement fake identities. I've never come across someone who doesn't have a mark at all."

"Well now you have," Harry responded dryly. He slumped back, trying not to think about what would happen when the Death Eaters came back.

The old wizard stood, and stepped forwards. Closing the short distance between them.

"Although if you are the reason behind the lockdown, I'm sure the Order would be very interested in you."

Harry didn't respond. McGonagall's warning was chilling. Perhaps he should give his name, it couldn't be worse than what Voldemort would do when he caught up with him. The man came to a halt before Harry and now he could see that several of his teeth were missing.

And that's when the man's eyes locked firmly on Harry's forehead. In an instant, his cool composure broke, only shock now portrayed on his face.

"It can't be-"

Harry went rigid, drawing backwards so that his back pushed against the wall. He didn't know whether to deny it or not. It happened instantly, before Harry had anything to anticipate his actions.

The man lunged forwards, arms outstretched. Hands locked tight around Harry's throat. Harry's legs kicked out but he could do nothing to stop the pressure. Harry couldn't think. He couldn't breathe. Only unrelenting panic consumed him, and his body thrashed desperate for some release. His own hands shot up to resist the chocking hold, but the short chain to the shackles made it impossible.

People were screaming and Harry's vision was shifting. Instead of the expected darkness, Voldemort's own view was coming into a sharp focus. Three Death Eaters stood before him, heads bowed low.

"All locations are secure, My Lord. Searches are being conducted."

A terrifying mix of terror and fury pulsed through Voldemort. A desperation taking hold as Voldemort paced back and forth.

"The boy must be found," he hissed. "There is no other option."

"My Lord, we have never failed a lockdown search yet. We will find him."

Voldemort ignored them, thoughts swirling, flicking too fast for Harry to be sure what he was seeing.

That was when Voldemort came to a sudden stop, catching his Death Eaters by surprise. Even though he had sunk into Voldemort's mind, Harry was terribly aware. His head burning as Voldemort hissed two words.

"The Ministry."

Now darkness was finally taking hold. Voldemort's point of view was dimming as Harry watched numbly. Harry welcomed it, sinking away from Voldemort's point of view. And then a whisper, so chilling that it felt like it was coming from Harry's own thoughts.

"Stay alive, Potter!"

The shock alone was enough to snap Harry back into his own head. But it was enough. Confusion and desperation vibrated through Harry, magic snapping out around him.

Whether it was his own or not, Harry didn't know. The only thing mattered was that the shackles round his arms were broken.

Harry reacted on instinct, throwing his weight down, so he slid from the bench. The man fell with him, still not letting go. Hands locked in a relentless hold around Harry's throat. Now Harry's hands were free, it took all his effort to pull out the knife he had taken from Dumbledore's office. He barely gripped it, but it was enough.

Harry jabbed the small knife forwards, penetrating the man's stomach. It was instant relief as the shock enough caused the man to let go. Harry's lungs flooded with air, but the pain still lingered. He rolled away, as the man howled, grabbing his chest in agony. But Harry wasn't down for long.

No sooner was Harry up on his feet did he tear to the door. No one moved to stop him. Only horrified faces watched as he ran. The red light and howling siren continued to surround Harry as he made his way down the corridor. It didn't help that Voldemort's voice was still echoing in Harry's head, or that Harry was still coughing, gasping for breath.

Voldemort knew where he was. He was coming.

It didn't take long to find the entrance of the auditorium. It was still as busy as before, but now it was deadly quiet.

Dozens of witches and wizards knelt on the floor, wands laid out before them. Death Eaters patrolled the room, wands and papers in their hands as they scanned everyone.

Unlike when he, Ron and Hermione had fled the ministry the fireplaces were already locked down. Strong iron grates prevented any escape. Harry would have to find another way out, but he didn't have time to move before he was noticed.

"You!" A Death Eater pointed straight at him. "Hands behind your head and on your knees."

Harry found a wand directed straight at his head.

Breathing calmly, he raised his hands, the bloody knife was still concealed in his pocket as he dropped to the floor.

"Identify yourself."

Harry didn't have time to answer.

"He's just some lost Order kid," someone called. "Picked him up in Diagon Alley."

Harry had no time for relief.

"Speaking of which," now Colerick raised his own wand. "I thought I left you chained up."

Perhaps Harry could have been able to talk his way out of it, at least act like he was nobody of interest. But it didn't matter. He could feel Voldemort approaching, knew his precious freedom was ticking away, second by second.

Harry darted forwards, taking the death eaters by surprise as he caught one in the stomach. The death eater grunted, winded. The other turned, curse already on their lips.

Harry ran through the auditorium, ducking as the spell grazed his shoulder. His advantage didn't last long. Further shouts echoed, as other death eaters noticed. Several drew their wands, joining in the fight.

It happened instantly. Harry's scar burned. The hot searing pain was consuming as he stumbled, crying out as he clamped his hand to his forehead. It was only because of his pause that their curses missed him. Not that it mattered anymore. There was no exit ahead, only death eaters.

And now their wands had lowered, eyes looking beyond Harry. All of the surrounding civilians had dropped their heads in a bow.

The footsteps echoed against the stone, as Harry stood deadly still. He could feel the intensity of Voldemort's stare. Knew that he was totally out of options.

Harry would not be afraid.

Harry swung the bloody knife around, positioning it feebly in front of him, it may as well have been a toy.

"Don't-" Harry started.

Voldemort's lipless mouth curled upwards, his amusement coursing into Harry's very soul. The force around him was overpowering, it was like Voldemort was surrounding him, becoming him. The knife fell from Harry's grip with barely any force.

"It's been such a long time, Harry," Voldemort said.

Harry couldn't move, his arms locked to his side, legs frozen solid. Even his face was uncontrollable, as Voldemort stepped closer. The witches and wizards outlining the auditorium were deadly silent. No one dared move, not a wand raised in Harry's defence.

Voldemort looked different, more disfigured, his slit-less nose indented, his skin tight and twisted. It was no relief that his eyes were still an intense blood red.

"Interesting," Voldemort murmured as he stepped around him.

Harry couldn't speak, his throat clogged as Voldemort spun his wand lazily around. Harry arms were pulled sharply behind his back, thin ropes spiralling around his wrists, locking them together. His ankles too were bound, the rope taught.

"I must confess, I'm surprised you made it this far," Voldemort continued.

If Harry had been holding his breath, he would have stopped breathing entirely now.

"Who helped you?" Voldemort flicked his wand, and the suffocating pillow dislodged itself from Harry's throat.

Harry only glared, not wanting to satisfy Voldemort with an answer.

Voldemort's curse ripped through him, and this time Harry's screams tore through the auditorium. His body burned, twisting as his arms thrashed against his restraints.

Finally, Voldemort released him. But Harry had no desire to cooperate. Not now, after all that had happened.

"Who helped you?" Voldemort repeated.

Harry was left lying on the stone cold floor, hating how he couldn't even stand back up. His glasses were skewed, making everything out of focus.

"What makes you think I had help?" he spat.

Voldemort stepped closer, towering over him.

Instead of answering, Voldemort flicked his wand again. Harry's memories flashed thick and fast.

The forest. Death Eaters. Voldemort. The chamber. And then Nick. McGonagall's portrait.

It was unrelenting, Voldemort digging out every frantic footstep, every breathe and every detail. Harry was left disorientated and confused. Voldemort had stripped more memories from him then he knew. Nothing made sense. He couldn't remember. He should remember.

"Colerick," Voldemort said.

The blonde Death Eater from before, stepped forwards, dipping his head low.

"My Lord, my deepest apologises, we picked up the boy in Diagon Alley, he had no house, nor an identity fragment. We suspect he is from the Order."

What impact Colerick expected, he certainly didn't expect for Voldemort to wave his hand dismissively.

"My Lord," he started. "I can arrange for the inquisitors to-"

But Voldemort had turned away, and Colerick trailed off.

"Destroy all witnesses in the Inquisitors holding room, aside from the injured man. Detain him." Voldemort said.

"No-"

Harry's protests fell short, Voldemort's curse swallowing his voice. Instead he could only glare, unable to move at all.

"My Lord." Colerick bowed, he looked stunned as he shot Harry a suspicious glance. But he diligently waved for other Death Eaters to accompany him before they disappeared from the direction Harry had escaped from.

Voldemort's eyes flicked across to Harry. Simmering fury pulsed through Harry's every being. He was defenceless as Voldemort stepped closer, wand pulling him up from the floor, spidery hands closing tight on his shoulder. Harry's scar erupted again, but his screams dissipated into nothing as Voldemort twisted, pulling them away from the Ministry.

XXXXXXXXXX

Harry would have fallen if Voldemort hadn't held him steady. Harry landed hard, blinking furiously as he realised he was back in the bright lights of the hospital wing. The drugged Death Eaters were gone and so was Professor McGonagall.

Finally Voldemort removed his binds, although his wand never left Harry's heart. Now, Harry was back in the castle, Voldemort only looked amused. Smirk flicking onto his face.

Harry stared back defiantly. He would not be afraid. At least if Voldemort finished this, then he would be able to see Ron and Hermione again. Voldemort stepped forwards before coming to a halt, his wand coming to rest on Harry's chin causing Harry to tilt his head back.

"You should not have left the castle," he said, voice deadly quiet as he inspected the marks which would no doubt be forming on Harry's neck.

Harry held his silence, not wanting to give Voldemort the satisfaction. 500 years. Nothing would be able to convey the fury, the spite he felt towards Voldemort as he did now.

Instead, Harry clenched his fists, staying deadly still as his neck remained exposed.

"Just kill me."

Voldemort's eyes narrowed., but his wand remained still. It was unnerving when Voldemort made no curse to finish it, and never had Harry known Voldemort to act unpredictable.

Harry racked his memories. So much time had passed and he had no recollection. He was missing something crucial, a piece of information which would explain why he was standing here alive and Voldemort didn't seem tempted to tell him.

Instead Harry settled for a different approach.

"This isn't the first time I've woken up?" Harry tested slowly.

Voldemort finally stepped back, wand lowering.

"The more information you accumulate, the easier your escape will be," he answered.

If anything this only raised further questions.

"Then why hold me somewhere I can get out of anyway?" Harry said.

"If you think I would trust anyone with your whereabouts, no. It is far easier to collect you when you appear. Interestingly, Draught of Living Death, is not indefinite, and usually, you don't make it out of the castle."

This certainly made Harry's stomach churn. How many times had this happened, only for Voldemort to send him back down into the depths of the chamber. If Voldemort was going to keep him in this never ending cycle of sleep, then Harry should have just let the wizard from the ministry kill him.

A knock on the hospital wing door interrupted Harry's thoughts. A swipe of Voldemort's wand and the door unlocked. A young man entered, and spotted Voldemort. At once he dropped to his knees, head touching the floor. He was dressed in what looked like a healers uniform.

"Your name?" Voldemort demanded.

"Aaron Gamp, My Lord,"

Now, Voldemort only looked bored.

"You are to tend to the boy."

Aaron glanced across to where Harry was scowling at Voldemort.

"I don't need tending to," Harry hissed.

To Aaron's credit, he only raised an eyebrow and turned back to his Lord.

"The boy will require all vaccinations," Voldemort answered.

Aaron stepped across the room, collecting a medical bag from the corner before placing it on a side table.

"When were you last inoculated against Dragon Fever?" he asked.

Harry glared at him and turned to Voldemort.

"You know this would be far less tedious if you just killed me already," Harry said.

"This would be less tedious if you stopped acting like a child," Voldemort replied coldly.

Harry wished he had his wand as he gritted his teeth.

"Hold out your arm," Aaron instructed.

Harry rolled his eyes and didn't move.

"Please," Aaron whispered.

It was only then that Harry noticed the man was shaking. Harry glanced over his shoulder to where Voldemort was still watching them carefully. This wasn't a Death Eater.

Scowling at Voldemort, Harry complied. He held out his arm.

Aaron swiped his wand over his hand, just like the Death Eater had done before. If Aaron expected to find something, he didn't show a reaction. Instead he pulled a couple of potions from his medical bag, and summoned a few other things with his wand.

He handed them to Harry.

"What are they?" Harry screwed up his nose.

"Three inoculations, Wiggenweld and some Star Grass Salve."

"Fine, I'll take the inoculations, but I don't need the others," Harry said.

Now it was Aaron who looked annoyed. "You're suffering major symptoms of Draught of Living Death. Your heart rate is slow and your eyes are blood shot. Not to mention, the dose I gave you earlier clearly wasn't strong enough. Your leg has healed nicely though," he added as an after thought.

Harry bit his tongue and took the potions begrudgingly.

Satisfied, Aaron nodded and turned to Voldemort.

"He is in relatively good heath, My Lord."

Harry's head pulsed.

Voldemort nodded and in one fluid movement Aaron Gamp collapsed to the floor, dead.

"You didn't have to kill him!" Harry hissed. Instinctively, he dropped to beside Aaron's body. Just as his hand enclosed around Aaron's own wand, Voldemort acted.

Harry's hand burned, as a curse ripped through his fingers. He withdrew his hand, clutching it in the other. Voldemort levelled his wand again.

"Don't you dare touch him," a voice snapped.

Harry turned, stunned to see Professor McGonagall once again occupying the portrait she had been in previously.

Voldemort summoned the wand with his own and turned to the interruption.

"I must admit, I had not anticipated that Potter had managed to pass my secrets on," Voldemort said.

McGonagall crossed her arms and pursed her lips.

"I don't know what you are talking about," McGonagall said coolly.

"Don't you?" Voldemort's voice was deadly soft.

He raised his wand and pointed it again at Harry.

"What have you have told the Order?" Voldemort asked.

McGonagall didn't even blink as she remained tight lipped. Voldemort paced around Harry, but his attention was solely focused on McGonagall's portrait. His wand never moving from Harry's head.

"I only need Potter alive. If you are willing to test my patience?"

Voldemort's curse ripped through Harry. His body convulsed and he tried to grasp onto something which wasn't unbearable pain. It was unrelenting as his muscles burned, straining as piercing needles shot through his very being.

Finally, Voldemort released him.

It took a moment for Harry to regain his breath as he forced himself to stand. He tried to ignore the fact that Voldemort's wand followed his every movement.

McGonagall was watching him carefully, assessing if he was okay. Harry tried to give her a comforting smile, but his body wouldn't cooperate, he was still shaking.

McGonagall's lips were white, as she finally turned back to focus on Voldemort.

"I have only relayed the information that Harry passed to me," she answered.

"And yet you kept Potter's location a secret?" Voldemort said. Although his voice was calm, Harry felt another angry pulse shoot through him head.

"It is Harry's decision, and his alone," McGonagall said tightly. "Of course, the Order have their suspicions he is hidden in the castle, but I would never see him murdered in cold blood."

Harry's stomach twisted at that. The old wizard at the ministry had tried to kill him.

"You know why he hasn't killed me yet?" Harry jabbed his hand in Voldemort's direction.

McGonagall nodded. She pursed her lips, eyes flicking across to Voldemort briefly. She seemed to be struggling with her words.

"Everything was so clear to you. Of course, this was before Voldemort found out you knew what you are."

Harry blinked. "What am I?"

"I would advise you to keep your silence," Voldemort said coolly. Wand now twisting away from Harry for the first time.

McGonagall however stared down at Voldemort with such contempt. Flames rocketed out of Voldemort's wand, erupting in a huge fireball before she could say another word.

"No-"

Harry scrambled forwards, but it was no use. The heat was too intense. Flames licked around McGonagall's portrait, swallowing up the canvas as she stood tall.

Harry stared in horror, hating how he could do nothing as McGonagall's portrait began to dissipate into ashes. He wanted to say something, to find some sort of words to convey how much he appreciated everything, but the unsaid words stayed hanging on the tip of his tongue as smoke clogged his eyes.

The fire didn't last long, and soon Harry was standing before the remaining smouldering wooden wreckage.

"Why?" Harry hissed, rounding on Voldemort in a cold fury. "What is the point in all this? Why don't you just kill me already!"

Voldemort stood unmoving, wand once again locked on Harry.

"That option is no longer possible," he hissed.

"So you've said. And you still haven't told me why?" Harry snapped. He wanted to hurt Voldemort, to make him suffer for all the time Harry had lost, all the people who had died.

"I hardly feel like I have to indulge you in such answers, Potter."

"You're just going to erase my memories anyway," Harry spat.

Voldemort twisted his wand but he stayed his curse. Harry waited, glaring at Voldemort with cold resentment. He wanted to know, he needed to know. Harry was fuelled with grief for everyone he had lost. His scar was burning painfully but Harry didn't care.

Voldemort remained silent, but Harry didn't speak again. He only held his head defiantly, not even backing down when Voldemort took one step forwards.

And then in one simple sentence, everything fell into place.

"You hold a piece of my soul, Potter. I'm sure you know what that means."

The shock ricocheted throughout, but at the same time, it made horrible perfect sense. The reason why Voldemort was keeping him, no, needed him alive.

Voldemort's voice echoed in Harry head, lingering and unable for Harry to shake. Voldemort's red gaze never left Harry as he digested what he should have known. McGonagall had known, Harry had told her himself before Voldemort had erased his memory the first time.

His heart was thumping wildly in his chest. He finally had answers, but there was only one way forward. Voldemort would never let Harry die, not now he had destroyed his other Horcrux's.

Harry's voice sounded alien to him, distant almost.

"All this time?" Harry whispered. "Ever since you first failed to kill me?"

"Yes, Potter. Now if you are done feeling sentimental?" Voldemort directed his wand at the hospital wing door which swung open.

XXXXXXXXXX

Harry walked slowly, hyper aware of Voldemort's wand pressed into his back. He knew where the destination was, he didn't need to ask. He wished he could stop walking, but his numbness only caused an automatic response, one foot in front of the other.

There was no way out, no possibly way of escape. His scar was burning fiercely, but under the pain he could feel Voldemort's cold satisfaction.

Voldemort's Horcrux would be safe for another few centuries and there was nothing Harry would be able to do. No one would know where he was. If only he hadn't struggled and let the man from the ministry kill him. It would have been better than this.

The chamber remained dark and cold, with the only light from burning torches on the walls. Harry could see his path from before, the dust and bones which were destroyed.

The sheer terror of losing more time was terrifying. It was worse than death. At least Death had an end. Not this never ending loop of holding Voldemort immortal. Of never escaping this prison.

Voldemort's wand pushed him in front of the pedestal.

"It is fortunate," Voldemort said quietly, wand pulling Harry off the floor so that he was lying against the cold stone. "I had not realised you had passed my secrets onto others."  
Chains circled Harry's wrists, pulling tight so that he was restrained once again.

"You can't keep me here forever," Harry spat, shaking against his restraints.

Voldemort tilted his head to the side, eyes hard.

"You leave me with little choice, Potter. You should consider your lord merciful after what you have done. Consider this a fitting punishment."

Harry couldn't help it, he smirked. "Missing your precious soul already?"

"Crucio."

Harry screamed, head slamming back against the pedestal. His back arched as he writhed, desperate to escape as his vision blurred. Harry slumped, limbs trembling when Voldemort finally released him.

"Can't you just remove it and kill me?" Harry spat.

"That is my intention," Voldemort said. "This solution is only temporary."

"Temporary?" Harry said. "500 years isn't temporary."

Voldemort's wand came to rest straight over his heart. He looked so tempted to finish it. It reminded him horribly of when Harry had first been in the chamber. Tom Riddle, so in control but totally delusional.

"What happened to Nagini?" Harry spat. "Can't you just kill me and be done with it."

Voldemort's curse ripped through him again. And this time it was worse, Harry's screams echoing around the chamber, shaking him to the core.

"Your friend Longbottom, otherwise I may have indulged you long ago."

Harry could remember, like it had only been hours ago. It was almost a horrible regret that he'd told Neville to finish Nagini. Otherwise, everything could have ended so long ago.

"I don't want to sleep forever, let alone keep you alive." Harry said.

Voldemort directed his wand at Harry's head.

"And what makes you think you have a choice, Potter?"

"Don't-"

But Harry's pleas were meaningless.

"Obliviate."

Harry's memories were slipping away. Each second becoming more confusing as the last few hours were taken from him. Harry was desperate to hold onto something, but it was impossible. The memories were slipping away, like nothing had ever happened.

Harry's eyes came to focus on the tip of Voldemort's wand. He jerked back, stunned when his body remained locked in place. Chains strained his arms as he took in his darkened surroundings.

What had happened? He had been running through the corridors of Hogwarts only moments ago. It was unnerving when Voldemort remained silent, watching silently as Harry tried to gain his bearings.

Harry could remember nothing of how he had come to be here. Ron and Hermione had been down in the Chamber only hours ago, retrieving the Basilisk fang. Perhaps they would be able to find him, before it was too late.

Harry's eyes slipped across to the bottle which Voldemort held. It was small and had less then a few drops of clear liquid in it.

Harry didn't want to know, but Voldemort only remained eerily silent.

"What is that?" Harry said.

Voldemort didn't answer. Instead he moved it closer to Harry's mouth.

"Drink."

Harry immediately clenched his jaw shut. He turned his head, pulling at the rusted chains which locked around his wrists. Voldemort's own wand was unmoving. There was no reason why Voldemort would spare him, not now he had been destroying his Horcrux's.

"I will not repeat myself, Potter."

Harry only glared.

One flick of Voldemort's wand and a suffocating pillow clamped itself over Harry's nose. Harry immediately tried to breath, to draw air but his head spun, and his mouth gasped open.

Voldemort was quick, bottle pressing up to Harry's mouth. An incantation too was muttered, but Harry didn't catch it, jerking his head back on instinct.

The liquid pressed against Harry's lips, and exhaustion consumed him.

Instantly, his eyes closed and Harry's head lolled forwards. He could do nothing as the quiet echo of Voldemort's footsteps retreated, muffled in Harry's head as he slipped back into sleep.

XXXXXXXXXX

So this is just a small idea which has been playing around in my head for awhile. It would have been nice if this was a bit longer, but I didn't really have enough plot to sustain it. So instead, here's my first one shot! What do you think?


End file.
